Just my Luck
by Lantean12
Summary: His luck had been fine up until two men knocked his door asking him to come with them. A whack on the back of the head and a van drive later, he fins himself in Abstergo, his memories to be sifted through, along with Desmond Miles. But luck has a way of changing and he finds help in the most unlikely of places. Desmond/Altair and Connor/OC
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: All That Trust Just Went out the Window!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC and my events.

**Rate and Review. This is likely to follow the games up until a certain point but I can't reveal to much or the plot is ruined. Hope you enjoy.**

If you asked Declan MacRae what he would have done today, been kidnapped by a pharmaceutical corporation and sent to it's headquarters in Rome would not be at the top of his list. His hazel-green green eyes opened when he felt the van had stopped moving and he was escorted out of the vehicle and up in what looked like a private room. A blonde woman was working on a computer that was attached to some sort of bed and an old man in a lab coat came out.

"Ahh, you must be Declan MacRae" he said and whilst he may have sounded friendly, he could tell it was forced.

"Dr. Warren Vidic, head of research at Abstergo" the Brit said.

"You've done your homework" the man said simply. Another man, this one younger, was dragged out of his room by some guards protesting all the way.

"You want to tell me why Abstergo security guards arrived at my home and tricked me into going with them, only to be knocked out and thrown in a van?" he asked, sounding formal. He watched behind as the man climbed onto the table, his body matching it's curved shape.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" he asked and walked over to the table. The younger man looked rather unsettled as a screen slid across his vision before all of a sudden he was out like a light. It wasn't long before a problem seemed to arise and he focused on the younger. The screen was all of a sudden retracted and he shot up.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked, concerned. The conversation passed over the Brit who was looking around until a particular part of the conversation caught his attention.

"You both have information we need" Vidic said.

"Information? I'm a bartender for Christ sakes! What do you want me to do? Teach you how to mix a Martini?" he asked and then the Brit voiced his objections.

"I'm nothing more than a librarian" he said.

"We know who you both are, what you both are" he said and the both looked at one another with a hint of concern.

"We don't know what you're talking about" they both said in unison.

"Don't play coy with me. There isn't time. You're Assassins. And whether you realize it or not, you've got something that my employers want. Locked away in those heads of yours" the doctor said.

"I'm not an Assassin. Not any more" Desmond said.

"I left to pursue a normal life. I don't appreciate the fact you went through a private file" the Brit said, hazel-green eyes cold and as hard as stone.

"Your file tells the truth at least. Cold to those he doesn't know" he said as though reciting a line out of it.

"Forgive me for not been nice after your men were so bloody courteous. Fact of the matter is, you bastard, is that you've kidnapped innocents" he said and he could see the sympathy in the woman, Lucy if he recalled correctly. "So cut to the bloody chase and tell us what you want from us" he said his voice calm and cold.

"For you to do as you're told. The Animus will allow us to locate what we need. Once we have it, you'll be free to go" he said.

"I'm not going back in there!" Desmond said.

"I'm not going in there period" the Brit said.

"Then we'll induce a coma and continue our work. When we're done, you'll be left to die. Truth be told, the only reason you're both still conscious is because this approach saves us time" he said and the Brit bristled even more at the fact that the man spoke about killing someone like it was an everyday topic.

"You're insane!" Desmond said.

"I can't believe that the most trusted pharmaceutical corporation in the world is filled with bloody murderers" Declan said.

"So what is it, you two? Live or die?" he asked. Neither voiced any objections. "Lie down" he said to Desmond. This time he was more relaxed, and Warren even had the courtesy to explain it all over again.

"Where am I?" Desmond asked as the glass screen showed information on many things.

"You're inside the Animus" Warren said.

"Which is...?" he asks.

"It's a projector which renders genetic memories in three dimensions" he explained.

"Genetic memories?" Desmond asked. Declan was listening intently to this. Whilst he had a rather extreme dislike for the man, he found the whole thing somewhat interesting. May as well know as he knew it would be his turn.

"Seems you'll need a bit of a tutorial. Very well. Let's start simple. What is a memory? Either of you can answer" he said.

"It's a recollection of a past event" Desmond supplied.

"Specific to the individual remembering the event" Vidic finished.

"Yeah, sure" Desmond said.

"What if I told you the human body not only housed an individual's memories, but the memories of his ancestors as well? Genetic memory, if you will" Vidic began to explain.

"So almost like a past life?" Declan asked.

"Almost but no. The reason why we were interested in you was because you shared the ancestors that Desmond has. Two people can't live the same past life but the memories can be passed down" Lucy explained. At this point Desmond and Vidic were going over their tutorial.

"So whilst Desmond is in there, we'll be able to see what he sees?" Declan asked.

"All on this screen. We'll see how his ancestor lived, what he did" she said.

"But why cant we access these memories normally?" he asked, Warren spoke then as Desmond was already unconscious.

"It's deep in the brain. Unless you are told that they exist they remain hidden from you. Even then, you need the Animus to display all of the memories exactly how they happened" he explained and the Brit watched.

"Why else did you need me?" he asked.

"Everyone has a particularly strong connection to a certain ancestor. Despite the problem we just had with Desmond, he is still more synchronised with his ancestor" Lucy explained.

"And who is this ancestor?" he asked.

"Altair Ibn-La Ahad" Lucy said.

"Grand master of the order from the Crusades? We both have genetic memories from him?" the Brit asked and Warren raised a brow. "I read up on the history of our order. I know all my ancestors and what they did" he explained. "So I have a strong connection with one of my ancestors. One of which you seemed interested in. Who?" he asked.

"Connor Kenway" Lucy said. He looked down at her hands for a brief moment and saw that she had four fingers, her ring finger tucked away, but given as a subliminal message. She was an Assassin.

"So my ancestor from the revolution" he said.

"Precisely. Watch now for this is what you must do" Warren said.

(Unknown amount of time later)

Warren and Lucy just left the room to head to the conference room and from the sounds of things, it would seem that a debate was on the go. Desmond sat up, looking rather groggy and exhaled a large breath.

"You okay?" Declan asked, concerned.

"It was so surreal. Solomon's Temple. Who would've thought that I'd get a chance to see it, even if I ain't in my own body" he said and the Brit chuckled a little. Desmond walked into the bedroom then and left the Brit to look around.

"Looks like jumping out of here is out of the question" he said as he looked outside the large glass windows. They were high up, and with no buildings that could allow for a safe jump out, they were stuck there for however long they were needed and he soon raised a question in his own mind. Did Warren mean it when he said that they would be let go? Or did he intend to have them killed once they have done what is necessary?

(Following morning)

Lucy gently shook the Brit awake and despite his weak protests he cracked an eye open, his features softening at the sight of her small smile. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stretched, before changing into a white, sleeveless zip-up shirt and jeans.

"Why am I up early? Desmond has the strongest connection to Altair" he asked groggily.

"He wants you synced to Connor when we've finished. After that we'll let you out and you can stay and watch the memories" she said.

"Loads of fun" he said sarcastically.

"I know. I'm sorry for the rough treatment. Warren's on a deadline to get this information" she said and he waved her off.

"Don't apologise for him. The only reason why I'm doing this is to keep myself alive and then I can leave. I get to leave my past behind me" he said with a small sigh. They left the room and he lay down on the Animus, the screen sliding across his view and a DNA strand showed up.

"Your eyes decide the memory. We'll just send you in as he is when he became an Assassin so we don't waste any time" Warren said and he nodded. Unconsciousness soon caught him in it's dark embrace.

(Davenport Homestead)

Connor was very rarely unnerved by anything, yet the odd presence in his mind had him concerned, especially as he could feel emotions coming from it. Mainly guilt, hopelessness and sadness, but he refused to bring it up with Achilles, lest he look like a mad man wielding a lot of sharp implements.

To top it off, the Piece of Eden seems to be glowing at his every passing, as though calling out to him, and it always seems urgent. That he did bring up with the older man, but he said that it was old and they didn't hold enough understanding of them to know how they work properly. He opened up the wooden box which held the Apple and gently picked it up, still glowing. A flash of white forced him to cover his eyes but as quick as it came, it had gone. Opening his eyes, he looked at what the Apple had produced. It was a hologram of a man, who was about his age, his build even and he was dressed in clothes that have never been seen in this country.

"Who is he?" he asked, yet he received no answer. The presence seemed to confirm that the body he was seeing right now had something to do with why he was in his mind. He heard the presence speak, with a lot of relief he might add.

_'That is me. You have to forgive me for the intrusion but I'm been forced into this against my will' _he said, voice distinctly British. Connor mentally responded in kind.

_'Who are you?' _he asked.

_'It's quite the story, and I can't explain it but you have to believe me when I say this. You're my old ancestor' _the voice replied. _'I come from Britain, well advanced in my time. I am also an Assassin' _he said. Connor took a minute to look at the hologram of the man. He looked quite similar, the only difference been the fact that his body was a little more lean, his hair was shorter, his skin a little bit lighter and his eyes were hazel-green instead of brown like his. His features were a little more sharp as well.

_'I believe you. As far-fetched as it is, I cannot fault it. But these people, who are they?' _the Native-American asked.

_'I don't know. But I have a suspicion that they are modern day Templars. I found a red cross like the one they use on their rings in a room' _he said, voice concerned. The presence all of a sudden cut off, but the hologram remained. He looked down at the ancient artefact and whispered.

"I don't know who he is, but take me to him. He needs me" he said, hazel-green eyes flashing in his mind, the colour most alluring to him and when filled with the hopelessness, guilt and sadness he had sensed, he couldn't leave him to suffer at the Templars hands. Warm, white light enveloped him and he soon found himself in a grey room. The door slid open at that moment...

**Okay so I'm back into this now. My interests are constantly shifting. Rate and Review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Apple Intervenes

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC.

**Rate and Review please :) This time frame is very different, and when I say very different, I mean days condensed into hours like Vidic wanted.**

The glass screen retracted from his view and he sat up, his head pounding and he was pretty sure he was ready to launch the contents of his stomach. He hoped he got his message across. That artefact, whatever it was obviously had great power, maybe if it can project an image of him from the future, or present in his case, then maybe it could send Connor back.

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked.

"I need a lie down" he said. He turned to Warren and as much as he would deny it in the future he pleaded with the man. "You have no use of me yet, please may I return to my room?" he asked.

"Fine" was the gruff reply. He got up, steadied himself and then walked back to his room, politely rejecting Lucy's offer of help and the door opened automatically. His eyes widened then and ignoring that splitting pain in his head, he threw himself inside and made sure to close the door behind him. There, in the present, was Connor Kenway. "My god" he said.

"Shh" the Native-American said, fingers to his lips.

"How in the name of all that is natural did you get here?" the Brit asked.

"The Apple" Connor replied, but at the tilted head look the Brit gave him, he elaborated. "That gold orb" he said, and Declan nodded, before swaying on his feet as his previous symptoms caught up with him.

"Good God" he said breathlessly. Connor rushed forward, aware that he would collapse soon. His arms instinctively wrapped around him and held him up right.

"Are you okay?" Connor asked.

"The machine I used to connect to you must've drained me" he said, before turning to face the other with a small smile. "Thank you" he said, and with help, he moved to his bed. "You need to stay hidden. They'll be sending in people from time to time to make sure I'm in a healthy condition" he said.

His room thankfully didn't have cameras due to the fact that he was more trusted, despite his more hostile reaction.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure they don't see me" he said, sitting on the side of his bed alongside him, arm still around his waist, just in case he falls forward in a daze. "It's you I'm concerned about" he said.

"Just some side effects, they'll soon wear off so I'll just have to let them run their course no matter how unpleasant" he said, resting his head in his hands. "I'm going to get some sleep. Make sure you are hidden if they come in" he said, lying down. Warm, white light engulfed both bodies, and a sort of unconsciousness overtook the Brit before he could raise any questions.

(Evening, Location Unknown to MacRae)

Hazel-green eyes opened as a cold cloth was pressed to Declan's forehead, all of a sudden welcome when the realisation that a he had a fever hit him. His head didn't hurt as much, it was now reduced to a small throbbing in the back of his head and his stomach had settled substantially.

"Where am I?" he asked the elderly man that tended to him.

"Davenport Homestead" the older said. Declan attempted to sit up, but a firm hand on his chest put a stop to that instantly. "Stay down. You're running a fever and we don't know what the Apple could have done to you" he said and Declan raised a brow.

"The Apple?" he asked.

"It transported you and Connor back to the Homestead and two others. One from your time, and a man who should long be dead. Altair Ibn-La Ahad" he said and the Brit's eyes raised. "Exactly my reaction. The Apple seems to have intervened, and at a good time as well, considering your state as well as that of your friend" he said.

"How did Altair react?" the Brit asked.

"He nearly killed Connor in an understandable defensive attack. He's somewhat calm now, and he's watching over Desmond for now" the old man said and he raised a brow. "It would seem he fell ill as well. You both have the same thing. Fever, headache and the like" he added. "I am Achilles Davenport" he introduced himself.

"Declan MacRae" he introduced.

"Rest now. Me and Connor will be periodically checking in on you" he said, standing up and leaving the room.

(Desmond's POV, a few hours earlier)

He was pissed off, more so than that time when I a drunken customer thought it funny to tip a drink in his face for no reason. The machine made him feel like crap every time he came out, and as soon as Declan came out of it, he looked ready to die. He hadn't met the man long and already he was concerned for him and yet he envied him. They were both stuck in the same situation yet he had to go first, and whilst Declan would have to go through it, he has a chance to mentally prepare himself for whatever Vidic intended for him.

It was another gruelling session. As Altair he had travelled all the way to the city of Damascus to assassinate Tamir, in fact he had decided to stay as long as possible to get as much done as possible. Some memories were easy, others a little more difficult, and then the real twister in the memories was the betrayal of Al Mualim, and then it got worse.

They had no use for him. In fact Declan became useless as soon as the locations of all of the Pieces of Eden had been found and they were both to be killed. He returned to his room, almost resigned to his fate, when white light blinded him. And then his panicky nature set in as he was no longer alone and there, stood in his room was none other than Altair, ancient and supposedly dead ancestor.

"Dez-mund" he said, voice thick with his accent. The symptoms that Declan had been exposed to seemed to catch up to him, and yet he collapsed. The last thing he remembered was that same warm light and strong arms wrap around him protectively.

(Altair's POV)

The presence in his mind had started out as an annoyance, it was always curious, always apologetic and it constantly reminded him of a curious kitten that had bitten off more than it could chew. Yet over time, it grew to be comforting, even endearing, helping him whenever he needed it. And then, one day, it just ceased to be. Malik had outright yelled every single insult that related to insanity, yet helped him in his current mission, and that was to unite with the boy, Desmond, if he remembered correctly.

"I still think you are mad. But if you are so compelled to help this person, then so be it" the one armed assassin said as they found the artefact that they needed. The Apple of Eden. The cause of so much pain and loss was about to become useful.

"I know this quest seems like folly. But please believe me when I say he is real. I need you to watch over the Brotherhood Malik. For I may never return" the Grand Master said.

"Of course Altair. Be careful. Safety and peace, brother" he said.

"Safety and peace, Malik" Altair replied. Picking up the golden orb he brought it close to him and whispered gently to it. "I don't know who he is and yet I know he needs me. Take me to him, please" he pleaded with the artefact. Warm light enveloped him, and he soon found himself in a grey, bland room.

It smelt sterile, and a hiss startled him ever so slightly. He turned and saw the presence that had been in his dreams and his mind, Desmond. However he looked to be in the most pitiful state. He was deathly pale and he looked sick to his stomach and judging by his facial exression, close to having a massive panic attack.

"Dez-mund" he called softly. Yet the boy collapsed, his symptoms catching up to him and soon the Apple began to glow in his hand. He wrapped his arms around the boy protectively, possessively, even lovingly and soon he felt the sensation of been transported all over again.

(Desmond and Altair POV)

The boy was still unconscious in his arms as he took in his surroundings. He was in a large forest, beautiful and untouched, and then he looked behind him to see a large manor, and a man walking towards them.

"How is this possible?" the man asked.

"Where are we?" he asked, getting to the point.

"Davenport Homestead. How are you here, Altair?" the man asked and he looked as though he had been pierced with a knife.

"How do you know my name?" he asked coldly.

"You were the Grand Master of the Brotherhood hundreds of years ago. I am Achilles, former master Assassin" he introduced himself. He then looked at the other in the assassin's arms instantly concerned. "What happened to him?" he asked.

"He has fallen ill. I know not what ails him" Altair said, standing with the man clutched to his chest and following the older man up to the manor.

"We'll tend to him now. I have another with similar problems" he said.

"Thank you" he said, sounding cold, yet inwardly relieved. He laid his precious cargo down on the bed, and stood close as Achilles worked on him, resolving never to leave the youngers side under any circumstances.

(Connors POV)

He opened the door that led to the room where Declan was resting quietly, a set of blue and black Assassin robes in his arms. Laying them on the chair that was in the corner of the room, he turned and looked at the Brit, who was breaking out in another sweat. Taking a cloth that had been left in the room with a bowl of cold water, he began dabbing it gently along his forehead and cheeks in an effort to cool him down.

"Connor?" Declan said, hazel-green eyes opening slowly.

"You're fever is going. Slowly but surely" he said, putting the cloth down for a moment. He grabbed a glass then, filled with water and gently tilting it to the Brits lips. He slowly sipped the water when instructed, relishing as the cold liquid ran down his parched throat.

"Desmond? How is he?" he asked when the Native-American retracted the glass.

"He's still resting. It seems that the device that you used to connect to me had a profound effect on him. He should wake soon, we hope" he said, taking a seat on the side of the bed. "I had some robes tailored to your sizes which were taken from your old clothes, and some boots as well from your odd shoes" he said.

"Thank you" he said, before sitting up slowly, so as not to strain himself. "So, what now?" he asked the other.

"We'll wait until you're back on your feet, then we'll go from there" Connor said. The two of them talked for a while before the Brit began to feel tired again. He slept then whilst the Native-American watched over him, more than a little miffed that Templars, no matter what age they are from, are responsible for his current condition. He vowed to keep him safe from then on.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Recovered

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC.

**Just a word of warning. As this goes on there are likely to be spoilers so I recommend that you play the game. If you couldn't give a care about it then proceed as you would. Rate and Review :)**

Sun shone through the gap of the curtains and Declan rose with ease, all symptoms having vanished over the course of the night with a good sleep. Dressed in only his boxers, he stood up and drew the curtains back, providing him with a lovely view of the land around the Homestead.

"Absolutely beautiful" he said with a small smile.

"It is, isn't it?" he heard a calm voice say behind him. He turned and came face to face with Altair in his younger years.

"Altair. Good morning" he greeted politely.

"You are not perturbed by my presence?" he asked.

"I already knew you were here. Achilles told me" he said, stretching out his muscles. "How is he?" he asked, and Altair clicked on to who 'he' was.

"He's more alert. The fever is still present, but not as much as it was before" he said and the Brit let out a sigh of relief. Desmond, despite only knowing the man for a day when they were imprisoned in Abstergo, had become a good friend, keeping him sane throughout their small time in captivity.

"Thank God. They intended to keep him in the device a lot longer" Declan said.

"If they had and I had been there, I would have killed them" he said, voice cold and deadly.

"You and me both. I may have left the Brotherhood, but I still carry the training" he said, his voice just as deadly, protective instincts taking hold. That was something that had been practised in the London Sanctuary, the compound where the Assassin's lived. It was important to protect their allies in the field, especially as their numbers dwindled.

"That is good to hear. I never got your name" he said, back to him as he was about to leave.

"Declan MacRae" the Brit said. "It is an honour to meet one of the greatest Assassin's that had ever lived" he said with a small smile. He saw the lips quirk upward ever so slightly as the man gave a curt nod, before leaving his room. The Brit then looked at the robes that had been left for him and he decided that he had better get dressed.

It was a bit of a struggle, but he managed it. The robes were like Connors if not slightly longer and a little more snug against his form and the obvious difference that is colour. Black and blue seemed to contrast well against one another, not to mention it was his favourite colour combination. A knock on the door takes him from his reflection in the mirror.

"Come in" he says politely. Connor comes in and the Native-American smiled when he saw that he was up and about, not to mention already dressed. "Good morning. Thanks again for getting these sorted for me" he said with a small smile of his own.

"It was no trouble. You need to be able to blend in and your old clothes would have stood out" the assassin said. "They are comfortable aren't they?" he asked.

"A struggle to get on, but they fit nicely" the Brit said.

"I made sure to have some ready for Desmond as well. I made sure to keep the colours different to keep people getting suspicious. Red-coats can be fools, but they're not completely uneducated" he said.

"I can imagine. I must thank Achilles for taking me in. People in my time were never quick to allow strangers into their home" he said and Connor chuckled.

"We allow people the chance to start again. The Revolution has left many homeless and bandits also attack travellers. Some even get into accidents" he said and the Brit smiled.

"I have read a lot on our history. This place became quite the community when people had made their businesses and their families moved in" the Brit said. Connor beckoned for Declan to follow him, and soon they walked outside into the fresh air, which the Brit breathed in happily, taking in the smells of the forest around them.

"It's amazing isn't it?" Connor asked, a smile on his face at the Brits demeanour.

"It's difficult to find such beauty untouched in our world. Nature has always been something that I enjoy. I find that peace is what keeps me sane and gives me hope that our world can be beautiful as well as advanced" he said.

"So different from that room you were in?" Connor asked with a small grin.

"Don't remind me. Stepping in that room is like having your life drained and it was far too sterile for my liking" he said with a grimace.

"It won't ever happen again. Although for a prisoners room you have to admit it was luxurious" the Native-American said and he chuckled.

"Good point" the Brit returned. "The life you lead, when you're not out on missions, is so simple yet so amazing. I'd give anything to live surrounded by beauty every day" he said.

"You can now. The Apple brought me to that place. Brought me to you so you may come here, away from that place to somewhere that was safe. The same for Desmond and Altair. It brought them here for a reason" Connor said.

"The Ancients work in riddles it would seem" Declan said.

"That they do. We must wait until Desmond is fully well before we can do what needs to be done. Despite the peace that is around, there is still much to be done" Connor said and the Brit nodded.

"I'm going to go up and see how he is" Declan said and Connor nodded, leaving to attend to other matters whilst Desmond went back inside. He found the room easily, and he knocked.

"Enter" was the gruff command from Altair and he smirked. '_Nice, yet still a little gruff' _he thought and entered the room.

"Good morning, Desmond" he said with a small smile. The American was definitely looking more better than what was described before. He was only ever so slightly pale now, and he had stopped sweating, which was good.

"Thank God you're okay" Desmond said.

"Me? I've been worried about you. From what I heard you were worse off" he said, leaning against the wall next to Altair.

"I was in there longer than you. You looked like you were ready to drop after a few minutes. It had me worried so much" the American said and Declan gave a reassuring smile.

"Well I'm fine. A good night's sleep can do wonders for the body" he said.

"Liking the new robes" Desmond said with a grin.

"You have a set as well. We'll need them to blend in when we go into town. Connor made sure to use our clothes so that the tailor could get our measurements. They had to wait for them to dry out a little though, we must've sweat a lot" Declan said.

"Hope the smell didn't bother them" Desmond said and he glared when he saw Altair smirk a little in amusement.

"The smell didn't concern me. It was the arm measurements I was worried about as I only wore that sleeveless top. Must've taken them whilst I was asleep or they made a good guess" he said. "Make sure you get better Desmond. We have a lot of exploring to do out there, this place is huge" he said, like an excited kid given free reign of a mansion.

"I will" he said.

"Good. Now I've got to go, fresh air is calling me" he said with a smile, and with a wave to the bed-ridden Assassin and a respectful nod to Altair, he left the room, and set about going outside. He was greeted as people who lived on the Homestead and surrounding lands passed through, all of them with a smile. _'This place really does provide the second chance that some people need' _he thought with a smile.

Looking back at the manor, he found a place where he could sit quite comfortably on the roof and set about putting his old training to use. Gracefully he climbed as quickly as any Assassin and after taking considerable caution, found that spot on the roof and sat, letting natures chorus wash over him. Declan let another smile grace his features, enjoying what this place had to offer in terms of serenity and even though it was not his timeline, he had a feeling that he would enjoy it here more so than back home. He had nothing back home, his parents, God rest them, had passed away due to an attack on their compound when he was only a little boy. The Sanctuary was eventually rebuilt in one of London's old townhouses, but he never returned, not without his loving parents by his side to get him through it. Here, he had a new life, a chance to start over and be a part of something, with a new family.

"Deep in thought?" he heard Connor ask. The Native-American sat down next to him and the Brit gave a small smile.

"Just a little bit. Thinking about my family" he said fondly.

"Miss them?" Connor asked.

"I've missed them for thirteen years. They passed away after an attack on our Sanctuary in London. I left the Brotherhood then, found a new family who took me in. I left them when I came of age and came to America to begin my adult life. One year later and hear I am" he said, and Connor rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I am sorry for your loss" he said but the Brit waved him off.

"We were always living in constant danger. Bloody hell, we already came to terms with our deaths as we always expected Templar attacks. Our Sanctuary, whilst secure, was not secure enough to hold them off. We lived in a state of half serenity, half fear" he said.

"That is no way to live. In fear of constant attacks, not knowing when they would come. Here, we know the Templars are not far, but they have never discovered the Homestead. We live in peace" he said.

"And thus I used to envy you. Despite my leaving the Brotherhood, one of my possessions was a copy of the Brotherhoods history. I never got tired of reading it, especially when I read about you and the Homestead. I envied the peace you had, the safety that you were able to provide. I suppose I got my wish to be able to come here and live out my life, or at least a part of my life, in peace" he said and Connor chuckled.

"What about Altairs history?" Connor asked.

"Like him, there are few words. Enough so I knew what was happening, but still it was few words. The parts that were detailed were graphically detailed, it's like reading a horror story" he said, the account of his assassinations all to present in his mind.

"If you don't mind my asking, have you ever taken a life?" Connor asked.

"On two occasions. Before I left England for America I found myself attacked by Templars. At the time I didn't know that they belonged to the company you rescued me from. There were a total of five of them, two of which got too close. I stabbed them with the Hidden Blade that I always kept on my person for defence and the other three retreated, not willing to risk their lives for one assassin. I carried out their funeral rights and buried them respectfully and they were declared missing, no doubt dead. It was passed off as a tragic accident" he said, recounting the blood that stained his blade. "Needless to say, cleaning myself up and my equipment had delayed me substantially. I lost the blade though, before I left" he added.

"An eventful life for someone who is young" Connor said.

"Isn't that the case with all Assassin's? From a young age we are taught to kill as it is. Having to do it before completing training isn't uncommon but it has caused the deaths of many in both my time and in others" Declan said. "The attack in London proved that" he added, sadness in his hazel-green eyes.

"It was like that once before. Times have now changed and we recruit more adults who have been oppressed, much like Ezio in Italy over two hundred years ago" Connor said. "I think that you need time to rest and recuperate. You've done much in your life, not to mention you had to take into account the time period which you lived in. Weapons and tactics are obviously more advanced" he said.

"Indeed they are" he said. The two of them sat and talked for a while whilst nature continued it's vast song around them. It would seem that life could have changed for the better, despite the fact that the Templars were next door in Boston, but that wasn't much of a concern as they did not know the location of the Homestead.

Within a few hours, Desmond was up and well much to the barely repressed relief of the Syrian who had watched over him the entire time. Declan was relieved as well, and thankful that this divine intervention had kept them out of that machine and from getting worse. They would make a difference here, they vowed it.

"Next step is to see what you know" Connor said and he, Declan and even Altair grinned when Desmond grimaced. This was definitely going to be interesting for all involved.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Training Begins

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC.

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The sun rose that morning, basking Davenport and the surrounding area in a golden glow. Summer was officially here and the warm weather was something that everyone seemed to enjoy, despite the work that still had to be done in the heat.

"Archery?" Desmond asked for confirmation.

"Precisely" Connor said. Now that the assassin's from the future had recovered, Connor, Altair and Achilles agreed that it was time to see what they could do and how they can improve. "Archery is a valuable skill out in the field. It'll provide you with protection as well as food through hunting. That and we need more hunters to gather supplies" the Native-American explained.

"It's also better than shooting what you call pistols. Less likely to ruin your catch" the Syrian said from beside him.

"There is a clearing in the forest where we have set up a small range. Feel free to use it any time so you can practice" he said and gestured for them to follow him. The clearing was relatively large and close by a small stream, two targets set up a fair distance away and opposite to the targets was the firing line, where two bows lay as well as quivers for the arrows.

"These will be yours. Make sure you retrieve your arrows. It takes time to make them and it's a lot easier to take them back. Each quiver holds ten arrows" Altair said.

"It's been a while since I've done this" the Brit said, picking up the bow and analysing it. He lightly pulled on the string, knowing it would require a fair bit of strength to ready an arrow, but the arrow would fly far.

"Well let us hope you remember" Altair said with a smirk. "Declan, you first" he said. The Brit drew up his hood to shield his eyes from the sun, providing a clear view down range. He strapped the quiver on and pulled an arrow out, before bringing it to the string. With a strong pull and stance, it went far back and he took aim, allowing his trained sight to focus either on the centre or close by. He released the arrow, which flew through the air, and the thud confirmed that it had hit and both of the trained Assassin's focused on Declans target. Just outside the red circle in the centre, his arrow protruded.

"It seems that you have a good shot. Not far off the centre" Connor said. "Desmond, you're up" he said.

"I've never done this before" he said somewhat nervously. Altair stepped up behind him then and spoke reassuringly.

"Heighten your senses. Use your sight and block out everything but yourself, my voice and the target. Even your breathing" he said. Desmond prepared an arrow and taking a sensible stance he gave a mighty pull on the arrow. "Focus your shot, make sure your comfortable, and when you are ready, release" he said. A small two seconds later he released the arrow and the shot rang true, just missing the centre just as Declans had and Desmond lowered the bow, calm and collected. "Well done" the master said and analysed the target. Had he been a little more to the left it'd be a bullseye.

"Nicely done, Des" the Brit said.

"Same for you. You used to do archery?" the American asked.

"It became a hobby after I left the Brotherhood. I haven't done it for a good couple of years though so I feared I was a little rusty" he said and Connor patted him on the shoulder.

"Well if that was rusty, then I can imagine experienced. We'll work on making sure you hit the centre of the target for an hour or so and then we'll spar. Hand-to-hand only" he said and the Brit gave a nod.

"Retrieve your arrows. Connor will instruct Declan and I will instruct you, Desmond" the Syrian said. The pair retrieved their arrows and returned to the firing line, Connor stepping close to the Brit and Altair stepping close to Desmond.

"Take that stance again and prepare to fire" Connor instructed. Declan did as bidden and Connor took a look at the stance, before stepping close. Using his feet, he guided the Brits feet a bit more apart, before taking both arms and raising them so that they were perfectly straight. The Brit blushed, though it was hidden by his hood thankfully, as he was aware as to how close the two of them were. "Focus on your breathing. That shot was near flawless, but even it out a little more" the Native-American said softly, almost huskily.

"Got it" the Brit said, and soon evened out his breathing, in through the nose and out through the mouth, though he remembered to keep silent, for silence is paramount in been an Assassin. A second later, he loosed the arrow, which hit with a soft thud, and Connor looked over his shoulder. It was closer, but still literally on the border between the red and just outside.

"Nearly there. Retake that stance" he instructed. Stepping closer again, he brought his feet further apart, enough so that he was stable. "Slight crouch" he instructed, and the Brit lowered himself a little. Connor gently took both of his arms and set them straight before placing his head next to Declans so he could see from his point of view. His head was just hovering above the shoulder, and he spoke softly again. "Do exactly as you did before and focus your breathing" he said, pressing his chest to Declans back and putting his breathing in sync with the Brit. He retracted his hands from the Brits shoulders and rested them on his hips, ready to correct him if needed. "Fire" was the simple instruction, and he loosed the arrow, which made impact with the red area much to the shock of the Brit. "Brilliant" he whispered, and Declan could barely conceal the blush that threatened to tint his cheeks not only from the broad chest that was pressed against his back, but from the way the Native-American spoke, it was soft, like a lovers caress, and very husky.

"Indeed" was the calm response.

"I'll help you with the next two to get you used to holding that stance. The final arrow will be fired on your own" Connor said, and the Brit gave a nod. He drew the arrow, and crouched, Connor then set about putting his stance right and pressing his chest against Declan once more and matching his breathing pace. The arrow was loosed, and it hit the centre, right next to the other arrow. The process was repeated and the result was the same, forming a perfect triangle. Connor moved away from the Brit, who mourned the loss of the contact.

"Now try" he said with a small reassuring smile. He took the exact stance, imagining Connors chest pressed against his back, and he straightened his arms. He pulled the arrow back with strength and aimed quickly, loosing the arrow once more, which made impact with the red, dead on in the centre of the triangle. "A fast learner. And a flawless shot no less" he said and Declan gave a dazzling small smile. He retrieved his arrows and watched as Desmond was on his final one. Altair had used a similar technique, only he had him stand straighter rather than crouched. The rest he had followed, including pressing his chest to the Americans back. Desmond loosed it, and it rang true, striking the centre of the practice target and despite the fact that he looked somewhat calm, he knew that inside he was overjoyed and shocked that he had gotten it right.

"Well done, mate" Declan said, and Desmond grinned widely.

"We'll have to have a competition at some point" the American offered.

"You're damn right" the Brit said with a matching grin.

"Now that we've covered archery. We need to see how handle hand-to-hand combat. Weapons are valuable, but if in some way you lose your weapon and fighting with the hidden blade proves a little difficult, then hand-to-hand is your next bet. That and thugs often prefer to use their fists rather than weapons" Connor said.

"Knocking an opponent that poses no real threat to you is better than drawing unwanted attention" Altair chipped in then. "Same as before. Desmond, you're with me, Declan, you're with Connor" he said and Desmond visibly gulped.

Connor and Declan faced one another and both took up an aggressive stance, both waiting to see who would move first.

"Have you fought before, Declan?" Connor asked.

"Once or twice" he said and Connor chuckled before pouncing. He threw a punch towards Declans abdomen which was easily blocked and then countered with a sweeping kick to take him off of his feet. Connor jumped up to dodge it before coming back down, grabbing the Brits arm as he went to throw a punch of his own, bending it at the elbow and holding him close.

"Predictable" Connor admonished with a whisper.

"Am I?" was the innocent question. Using his free arm he elbowed the other in the stomach, causing Connor to relinquish his grip on the Brits arm.

"So you know how to escape" the Native-American said. He came close and threw three punches at his abdomen, his side and face, each easily blocked but then he used a sweep kick similar to the one that the Brit used, except this one hit. He had the Brit pinned beneath him then. "I win" he said with a whisper.

"Do you?" the Brit asked with a smirk. Declan drew his knees up for under Connor who was only hovering over him and kicked him with both feet, sending him to the ground. He got up quickly and pinned the other beneath him, leaving no room for any escape, even trapping his arms against the ground beneath. "I believe I win" he whispered close to the Native-Americans face, a triumphant smirk gracing his face.

"No you don't" Connor said and the smirk fell, a brow raised from Declan. He brought his knee up into the Brits back, and he relinquished his grip on Connors wrists. Now free, Connor reached up and grabbed hold of his shoulders, before using his weight to toss the Brit to the floor where he put and end to any struggle, and offered no chance of escape. "I definitely win" he said, straddling the man's waist.

"Fine. You win, for now at least" the Brit replied.

"You fight well. Good at blocking attacks and you know how to change the tide of battle. Thugs are not at good as I am, so if you were to fight them you'd win" Connor said standing up and offering a hand to the Brit.

"Well you have one thing right" the Brit said, reaching for it.

"What's that?" he asked. The Brit grabbed his hand and pulled him back down, retaking his place on top of the Native-American.

"I know how to change the tide of battle. I win" he said with a dazzling smile. Connor merely gave a grin in response.

"I think that will do for today" he said, this time both of them standing up and watching as Desmond was pinned beneath the master Assassin.

"You still have much to learn Desmond" Altair said with a smirk.

Bladed combat could wait. For now they were content to bathe and see what they had to do around the Homestead, for they had plenty of free time. The Templars seemed to be on a bit of a break, but they couldn't rest on their laurels for too long.


End file.
